A First Look
by butterflybaby91
Summary: Enjolras has an encounter that he cannot shake. Takes places prior to the events in "A Breath Away from Where You Are", but goes along with that story. One-shot


The first time he sees her it is raining. He is sitting in the café trying to work through the chill that has accompanied the rain, when she slinks inside. He looks up as the door slams. She is standing there, leaning against the frame. Her hair is sopping wet and she does not seem to have noticed him yet, even though he is the only other soul in the café. She is wringing her hair out and then doing the same to her rags, he could not really call them clothes. She was dirty, in spite of the rain. Grime clings to her like moss to a tree. Smeared down her too thin arms and across her painfully visible cheek bones. As she finishes her ministrations, she looks up and he catches his first glimpse of the surprisingly clear eyes. He is struck by the spark contained in those orbs, in spite of their dark color; in spite of the obvious signs of malnutrition in the sunken skin surrounding them. Her eyes are strangely captivating. He finds he cannot seem to look away.

She is shifting uncomfortably under his gaze now. He shakes his head and clears his throat before standing. "Mademoiselle," he softly inquiries, "were you looking for someone?"

He realizes that he is still watching her face too intently, so he forces himself to look away and glance out the window as he waits for her reply.

She glances around warily before answering. "Uh, _oui_, I was supposed to deliver something for Monsieur Marius this evening. He said to find him here." Her gaze is fixed on the ground as she shuffles her foot back and forth.

"I'm sorry Mademoiselle, but with the weather, none of the men came to the café today. They are all probably at their homes," she gives him a questioning look before he adds; "usually there is a group of us that meets here to discuss, er, ideas."

She curses softly under her breath, "I see," she whispers, but she is still looking at him incredulously as he is now looking at her. He realizes she was probably supposed to be paid for helping Marius and that might have been the only way she could have hoped to eat today, so he quickly moves toward the table that holds the remains of his supper.

"Was Marius supposed to pay you for running his errands? I have some money if you need any, or if you want to eat. There's not much, but I could find more," he offers her a place at the table.

She is now making a face, "No, I don't want your money Monsieur. Marius was not going to _pay me_," she spat angry at his attempts at charity, "And _merci_, but no, I don't want your table scraps—feed them to your dog," and with that remark she spins on her heels to head out the door.

He stares after her, open mouthed, and face turning red, as he realizes the extent of her pride. His food was not really scraps—he had barely touched his meal. And she perceptibly had not eaten a proper meal in days. Most of the other gamines he met would never have had the will to turn down any food—or money, but this prideful girl does.

"Wait!" he calls after her as she is about to exit the café. His hand is outstretched in an attempt to stop her, but she turns and looks at him cautiously, "I'm sorry. I did not mean that to sound so condescending. I just worry about the plights of all of the children living on the streets," he winces as he realizes that also sounds demeaning. This girl is no child, she is practically a grown woman and the look she is giving him reminds him of that, "Again, I'm sorry, but please, let me buy you a meal." He does not know why he cannot allow this girl to go back into the rain without food, but something about the fact that she came in the wet and cold to run flighty errands for Marius, without promise of payment, intrigues him. "Please," he says again when he can see her hesitating.

She sighs and relents, letting him lead her to a chair. He orders her more food and finishes his own supper as she eats hers. He wants to learn her story, but he also does not want to interrupt her eating. When she finishes he does venture to solicit from her, "How do you know Marius?"

"We are friends," she says with a hint of regret and sadness in her voice, which just serves to increase his confusion. Then, she turns to him and asks semi-haughtily, "How do you know Monsieur Marius?"

"We are classmates. And like I said, we are both part of the group that meets here regularly," he pauses and watches her, wondering if she would be interested at all in their goals. Even though it is people like her that they want to fight injustice for, he has noticed how, for the most part the poor do not really care, "Do you know anything about our group?" he finally asks.

She just shakes her head, but he can see in her expressive eyes that she is curious.

"We are interested in helping the plight of the poor of Paris, and France overall," he tells her and notices how her eyes light up in interest, "we meet here almost every day and usually Marius is here as well. You are welcome to come listen in on our meetings if you would like," he says, not sure what has come over him, in inviting this girl to come to their important revolution planning meetings, but he tells himself it is for people like her whom they are fighting—and she is friends with Marius. He tells himself it is not because he would like to get to know her better—he has not interest in girls at all.

She is almost smiling now, "I would like that Monsieur—that sounds interesting and if it's something Monsieur Marius is involved in I should like to learn more about it," she says quite cheerfully. Then she is standing, "I thank you for the meal Monsieur, but I really must be going now, _au revoir_."

As she moves toward the door once again, he grabs her hand and pulls her back. He pulls a little too forcefully and she ends up standing quite close to him—he can feel her breath on his face as she looks up at him inquiringly, "Just out of interest, what is your name Mademoiselle?"

"Eponine," she breathes dark eyes boring into his.

"Eponine," he repeats wonderingly and then has to shake his head again to clear his thoughts. As she is sliding out of his grasp and reaching the door he calls to her, "Mine is Enjolras."

She smiles, nods, and is out of the door without another word, leaving him to sit and try his best not to think of her for the rest of the dreary evening.


End file.
